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But ugh, the stink of it all—literal and not. Cheap perfume, sweat, desperation—prostitutes deal with crap I’d run from screamin’. Ever hear ‘bout the “Green River Killer”? Guy offed like 50 prostitutes ‘cause they were “easy targets.” Fifty! Got me ragin’—fear leads to anger, anger to hate, hate to me wanna punch somethin’. Why’s it always them takin’ the fall? Blows my mind, dude.

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After that chaos, I decide to take a breather. I head to the cafeteria, and guess what? They’re serving ratatouille. I mean, come on! I’m in Valence, not some fancy restaurant! But I gotta admit, it’s not half bad. I sit down, and this old guy, Jean, starts chatting me up. He’s like, “You know, back in my day…” and I’m thinking, “Oh boy, here we go.” But he’s actually got some good stories about Valence. Like how the city used to be a major trade hub. Who knew?

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